


Once More With Feeling

by LadyFogg



Series: Angel with a Shotgun [5]
Category: Constantine (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Coping, F/M, Feels, Fingering, Hurt/Comfort, Language, Sexual Content, Smoking, Vaginal Fingering, handjob, magical connection, post-resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4824227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFogg/pseuds/LadyFogg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You struggle to adjust to life once more while John tries to make amends for dragging you back. With no idea on how to move forward, or if you even want to, you get to work trying to control the magical connection you now share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once More With Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Fic Song: https://play.spotify.com/track/3HN8NmS63x5CLw0Sy7JiYm

You can’t sleep. You know you should, you know you need to. You’ve been trying for hours.

Days technically.

It had been two since John had dragged you back from Heaven. You spent most of the time completely drunk, barely making conversation with John. Neither of you really knew what to say to each other, so you chose silence. And drinking. A lot of drinking. You’ve tried to sleep, but every time you close your eyes you’re back there with your daughter and it hurts all over again. Or you have nightmares. Demons and monsters and dark things dragging you down to Hell. Dragging John to Hell. Dragging your daughter to Hell.

You mumble with annoyance as you switch from laying on your side to your back, staring up at the dark ceiling. You picked a room down the hall from John, trying to put as much distance between you both as was allowed. Not that it helps. Your connection, or whatever it is, makes it feel like he is right there next to you. You could feel when he passed out, which was practically as soon as he crawled into bed. You’re not surprised since he drank more than you had. You had dozed for a bit, but nightmares forced you awake.

There aren’t nightmares in Heaven.

There is warmth and sunlight, the smell of summer and fresh flowers, and the sound of small feet running towards your bedroom door…

 _No!_ you tell yourself firmly. _Don’t think about her. It’ll hurt more._

You can still picture her face so clearly. Her long dirty-blonde curls. Her big eyes. You allow yourself to think about her for a few more seconds before you try to mentally push the images away. You try not to remember her smile, the sound of her laugh, how she snuggles up to you before bed. It’s hard though. So many memories.

See while it has been four months for John, it has been seven years for you. Seven years of peace. Seven years of happiness. Seven years without pain.

And now you’re back here. After everything you’ve done. All the monsters you’ve killed and people you helped, your reward is to live. Live in the cold, pain-filled world you had helped save. It’s a shitty reward in your honest opinion. Heaven was better.

Shit. You’re thinking about it again.

You curl onto your side and draw the blanket tighter around you. It’s too cold in your room to sleep. You need warmth. You remember the couch in the living room and the inviting fireplace, so you ease yourself out of bed. Your body aches from the lumpy mattress and you wince as you stretch. You drape the blanket around your shoulders and shuffle out of your room.

The house is eerily quiet. Chas hasn’t returned yet, but you suspect when he does John is going to get an earful. You’re actually surprised Zed hasn’t popped in. You actually expected her to show up that first day. But she hadn’t. Give her time. As soon as she goes to visit you and sees you’re not there, she’ll be by.

You walk down the hall towards the living room, but stop as you come to John’s door. He’s restless. You can feel him tossing and turning in his sleep. Before you can stop yourself, you’re quietly opening the door. The smell of cigarettes and whiskey hits you almost immediately, but it’s actually comforting. It’s completely _John_. You missed it. You enter the room and close the door behind you.

John’s awake now. Well, half-awake. He’s in a slightly drunken daze, but he still knows you’re there. He might have even known as soon as you got out of bed. With the connection and all. He sits up as you make your way slowly across the room through the dark.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and even then you can barely make out his outline in bed. He pulls back the comforter and you drop the blanket from your shoulders onto the floor before sliding in next to him. He doesn’t say anything. He just adjusts the comforter over the both of you before tentatively sliding his arm around your waist.

His embrace is warm and comforting. You can feel yourself physically relax as you snuggle against him. It’s like your body craved him, even though your mind didn’t. Another side effect of the connection? Or maybe it was more psychological? Craving someone to hold you after everything you had been though. The fucked up thing is, you don’t know. In any case, you’re finally relaxed and warm enough to consider going back to sleep.

John rests his face in your hair as you tuck yours into his neck, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of his skin against yours. Before you know it, you drift off to sleep.

The next time you open your eyes, you’re rested but disoriented. There are no windows in John’s room nor is there an alarm clock so you have no idea what time it is. Were you asleep for minutes or hours? Hard to say. Not that you need to go anywhere. You can stay in bed for days and there isn’t a thing anyone could do about it.

You’re still in John’s arms. In the same exact positions you fell asleep in actually. Good, that meant no nightmares, which meant no thrashing in your sleep. John’s chest is moving steadily against yours and your legs are tangled with his.

It’s suddenly all too intimate. Too warm. Too close. Too constricting. You feel like you’re suffocating. You need to leave before he wakes up. Now that you’ve had some sleep maybe you can go back to your room and read or something. You start to shift, trying to wriggle out of his embrace.

“Don’t leave,” comes the soft, sleepy mumble from the lips pressed against your forehead.

You pause. “I’m not,” comes your automatic response.

“Liar.”

“You would know.”

You can feel him smirk and it makes you smirk a little too. The constrictive feeling starts to go away until all you’re left with is a haze of drowsiness and hunger. His. No, yours? Shit, you can’t tell.

John shifts so he can stretch. The action makes his arm tight around you and you find yourself pressed against him. Your body reacts instinctively and you feel a spark you haven’t felt in a very long time. Oh yeah. Sexual desire. More accurately, sex with John. You definitely missed that.

You feel a wave of heat wash over you and the urge to run your hands along John’s body is suddenly too overpowering. But it’s confusing. Is it your desire? His? Both? This fucking connection is going to drive you insane. When you were drinking, the alcohol helped to dull the connection. But now that you’re mostly sober, the connection is back with a vengeance.

It’s hard enough trying to work out your feelings after what you’ve been through, but to have to do it while channeling someone else’s emotions is near impossible.

At least for you.

John doesn’t seem to have a problem as he scoots down the bed so you’re face to face, his mouth searching for yours in the dark. Or he’s too tired to give it much thought. You’re banking on the later. It wouldn’t be the first time you two woke up together only to fuck and go back to sleep. You remember those months after the cruise. Weekends together in your loft, or in this very bed. It’s enough to stroke that heat inside of you and you respond to his kiss enthusiastically.

His lips are a little dry but his tongue is wet and somehow sweet. It’s an intoxicating combination. Better than alcohol (though you would never admit that out loud). You lean into the kiss to deepen it. Your hands are pressed in between the both of you so the only thing you can really do with them is dig your fingers into his chest hair. His arm around your waist could almost be made of steel as he holds you flush against his body.

But suddenly the sensations are all too much too fast. His mouth is too hungry and his hold is too tight. You are finding it hard to catch your breath, but not for the right reasons. It’s almost like your senses are on overdrive. His feelings, your feelings, his touch, your touch, where does it end? Whose is whose?

You push against John’s chest to free yourself and he lets go of you instantly. You’re both panting heavily, which is strange considering all you were doing was kissing.

“Too much,” you manage to say. “Sorry--”

“No, don’t apologize,” John says between pants. “Too much for me too. Bloody fucking hell, he wasn’t lying when he said we’d be able to feel everything the other is going through.”

It’s the first time either of you has acknowledged the connection out loud and that somehow makes it more real. Knowing he is feeling exactly what you’re feeling is actually a bit of comfort. To know that you’re not going through this intensity alone is helpful.

You take the opportunity to move yourself away from him, giving you both the space you need. John lets you, but keeps his hand on your hip. You both try to catch your breath and process what’s going on. You don’t want to back off completely. Sex with John has always been your main source of stress relief. “Maybe go slow?” you suggest. Going slow typically isn’t your favorite. Especially in relation to sex. But in this instance, considering everything you’ve been through in the past couple of days, slow is probably the best way to go about things.

“Aye, I can do that,” John agrees with an eager nod. He leans in again, capturing your lips in a gentler kiss this time.

Your mouths move against each others carefully, tongues only briefly coming out to touch before retreating. It’s still enough to make you shudder and John draws you closer, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck. His fingers bury themselves in your hair and the feeling of his blunt nails scraping your scalp sends your body in a frenzy.

The second John’s body presses against yours again, however, the frenzy is nearly insatiable and you both find yourselves practically clawing at the other until John forces you apart this time.

“Easy, easy, love,” he coos, stroking your cheek.

You grunt with annoyance. “God damn it!” you mutter angrily, batting his hand away. “What the hell are we supposed to do? Can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t fuck…”

You expect John to be angry as well, but he just chuckles softly. “It’s going to take time, Lola,” John says. “We just need to go easy, get a feel for this connection and go from there. But just think, if that was intense, imagine when we do fuck.” He makes a small growl in the back of this throat.

You can hear the ever present smirk in his voice and you snort with laughter. “If it’s going to be better than it was before, we need to make sure we don’t hurt ourselves,” you tell him. You’re only half-joking. “Isn’t this connection getting to you? Aren’t you overwhelmed? Not just with this but even when we’re just sitting in the living room drinking.”

“Of course I am,” he says. “Sometimes I feel like my bloody head is going to explode. I get angry and I don’t know if it’s your anger or mine. Am I hungry or are you hungry? Am I drunk, or are you? It’s maddening.”

You would have never known. While you have been stomping around angrily and loudly, he had been quiet and reserved. Then again isn’t that how it usually is?

“Then how are you so calm?” you ask. “You’ve been surprisingly low key since I came to.”

“Because I’m dead tired,” John admits. “And because now that you’re awake I can actually rest. You’re here with me. Chas is alive. Zed is...well, okay I guess is the word. Astra is at peace. And my deal has been broken. For the first time in years...I don’t have a mission.”

You hadn’t thought about that. You keep forgetting that he didn’t have the peace you did. He also didn’t have the time you did. Four months isn’t long to process what happened, especially since he was trying to bring you back during that time.

As angry as you are at him, and yes you are still so fucking angry he pulled you from Heaven, you do appreciate the time and effort he put into bringing you back. The thought that he wouldn’t have if he had known where you were is somewhat comforting, but you don’t know if you necessarily believe him. People tend to go the “if I had known” route as a way to push blame onto someone or something else. But it doesn’t really matter. There’s no way to change what happened. You’re in the mortal world now. At least until you die for real.

The only thing that’s helping you right now is the fact that once you go, you know exactly what’s waiting for you. A small cottage in the summer countryside, and a little girl with dirty-blonde hair and her father’s eyes…

“You miss her,” John says in a soft tone.

He must have felt the aching in your chest. “Yeah,” you say, fighting back tears. “Yeah I do.”

“She looked like you,” John says.

“I always thought she looked like you,” you tell him.

_Your mother thought so too._

John is silent for a moment, almost like he’s trying to think of what to say. “I’ve never been one for kids,” he eventually tells you. “I mean, never really thought it would happen for me. Especially not after Newcastle. If you want to talk about--”

“If you’re suggesting we actually bring a kid into this fucked up world, absolutely not,” you cut him off. “We’ve seen the monsters of this world. Literally, they are fucking monsters. For fuck’s sake, we’ve fought them. Do you think I want to bring her into that?”

“Bloody hell, woman, I wasn’t offering to impregnate you!” John exclaims. “I only wanted to let you know, that if you would like to talk about her, that I’m okay with it.” That’s sweet of him. You wonder if he secretly wants to learn more about what his child was like. You can feel the curiosity. “I just don’t want to hear anything else about Heaven.”

And there it is. That’s what this is really about. Him not wanting to hear about yet another thing he won’t be able to have. “Because you still don’t think you’ll be going there,” you finish the thought he hadn’t voiced.

“No, I don’t,” John says. “My soul was signed up for downstairs well before that demon got a hold of it.”

You’re not going to argue with him, because you know that you’ll just end up talking in circles. You’re both too stubborn for your own good. Instead, you reach towards him in the dark, your hand carefully coming in contact with his cheek. He places his hand over yours. You use the touch to guide you forward so you can kiss him again.

This time you try to ignore his emotions and just focus on the feeling of his lips against yours. He takes it slow again, doesn’t try to devour you like you know he wants to. You savor his soft lips against yours, letting your tongue flick against his just once. Just to tease.

He groans and instinctively pulls you closer.

This time, before it gets intense, you pull back with a groan. “Fuck,” John gasps, forehead resting against yours. “I can’t tell if it’s just because it’s been awhile or because it’s the connection. All I know is all my blood is rushing to one place right now.”

That draws a quiet laugh out of you. “I won’t be offended if you have to find someone else,” you say. “I’m not sure if full on sex is going to be in my bag of tricks today.” You two were never exclusive to each other and you are under no illusions that he has been celibate since you died. This is John Constantine for crying out loud.

John shakes his head, much to your disbelief. “Won’t work, I want you,” he says with a growl. You can feel his breath ghost across your lips, like he wants to kiss you and is holding himself back. “I tried others when you were gone. But they weren’t you. My body knows what it wants.”

It must be the connection. The one neither of you noticed until Papa Midnite’s ritual made it stronger. That and he missed you. You arch your body into his, pressing yourself against his erection. He whimpers and you feel the sparks shoot through your body again. Except this time you can tell the difference between his desire and yours. His has more desperation to it and you consider your options before closing the distance between your lips.

John’s response is instant. He deepens the kiss with a moan in the back of his throat. But before he gets too carried away, he pulls back slightly. “Tell me what you’re up for,” he pants, his nose bumping yours in his enthusiasm. “Anything you’re willing to give is just fine with me, love.”

You kiss him again, taking the opportunity to glide your tongue along his. He moans louder this time, hungrily accepting the assault. You slide your hand down the bed and roughly cup him through his boxers. His hips jerk forward immediately and his teeth graze your bottom lip. “I think I can manage to give you a hand,” you say huskily, slipping your hand under the fabric.

John whimpers excitedly. You grasp him firmly and start to stroke his cock. His mouth connects with yours and you let him take control of the kiss. You try to focus on what you’re doing rather than what you’re feeling. Because as soon as you focus on your feelings, things start to get overwhelming again. So you focus on John’s cock in your hand, on how his hips twitch and jerk along with your movements.

You’re so focused, you don’t hear the question he poses in between kisses.

“What?” you ask breathlessly.

“Can I touch you?” John asks. His hand is cupping your ass, a fact you don’t realize until his fingers digs into you roughly.

Things seem to be going well, so you nod with a soft, “Fuck yes.”

His hand pushes your underwear down and you wiggle your hips to shimmy out of them. They get kicked towards the bottom of the bed. John’s hand is rough between your thighs but as soon as his fingers drag along your slit, he’s full of gentle caresses.

Any control you had over the connection immediately flies out the window the second he touches you. Your body is now convulsing along with his as you speed up your hand, stroking him in time with the two fingers he’s pumping in and out of you frantically. Breathing is barely an afterthought as your mouths clash together painfully. John’s lips leave yours to trail across your cheek and jaw, until he finds what he’s looking for. He sucks greedily on that special spot between your neck and shoulder.

Your whole body trembles as your orgasm sneaks up on you. Your hand is still stroking John urgently and he lets out a loud moan before coming over your thigh.

Rarely do things get so intense you can’t hold off. Between everything that has happened and how wound up you are however, you’re not surprised neither of you could last.

He carefully withdraws his hand from between your legs and you let his softening cock slip out of your own hand, wiping away his come on the bedsheet. Your heart is racing as you roll onto your back, flinging your arm across your eyes. “Holy fucking shit,” you gasp in between pants.

“You said it, love,” John agrees. “At least something good came from this whole thing. That was fantastic.” You hear rustling and feel him move out of bed. Through the dark you can see him cross the room to his bathroom. You block your eyes with your arm as soon as he steps inside and you see him reach for the light switch. The brightness doesn’t bother you as you manage to block out most of it. You hear him turn on the sink faucet to wash himself.

When you hear his footsteps come back to you, you peek out from under your arm. He smiles and leans down to kiss you as he passes a warm washcloth over your leg to clean his mess. You hum in appreciation of the gesture and the kiss. Your arm slips onto the pillow above your head. Once he’s done cleaning you, he balls the cloth up and places it on the nightstand.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m famished,” he says softly, tracing a path up your arm with his finger tips. It makes you shudder. He touches his initials on your neck, where you know you’ll have a hickey. “How about, I cook us a nice breakfast? Hmm, that sound good?”

For the first time in days, food actually does sound pretty good. You haven’t eaten much since you woke up, but you know you need to. Your stomach grumbles as if to emphasize the fact. You feel weak and shaky. Though part of that could just be from the orgasm.

John is trying so hard to make things as normal as possible. Even though they clearly aren’t. You appreciate the sentiment however so you offer him a small smile and nod. “Okay, sounds good,” you say. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

His smile widens slightly and he leans down to give you a quick kiss before sliding out of bed again. You watch him dress and you feel a sense of contentment wash over you. His contentment. But there is still apprehension. He’s worried about you. He’s being careful to not trigger your anger or sadness.

Even though you’re upset with him, even though he knows you’re struggling, he’s still glad you’re there with him. You can tell he wants to say this to you.

“Just so you know,” you say, before he can voice his thoughts. “I’m still pissed at you. Don’t think just because I jerked you off means I don’t want to punch you.” You expect the mood to be killed. Were hoping for it.

But John just chuckles. “I wouldn’t suspect otherwise,” he says, moving to the dresser to pick up a cigarette. He puts the end in his mouth. “I’ll let you take a swing right now if you want.”

You scoff at his offer. “I don’t need a pity shot, John Constantine,” you say in a scolding tone. “I will punch you when I’m good and ready to punch you.”

John snorts with laughter as he lights his cigarette. “It’s bloody good to have you back, love,” he says. He pulls on a pair of fresh black pants and a white button-up. His signature look. You wonder if he has any other clothes.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, waving him away. “Go make breakfast. I’m hungry.”

He gives you a mock bow before leaving the room. As soon as he’s out of sight, you let your smile fade and succumb to the crushing feelings of doubt and sadness you were holding back. You know he can feel it, because you can sense his own dark feelings do the same. It’s like you’re on a literal rollercoaster of emotions. How are you supposed to handle this day after day? You don’t know if you can.

Thankfully, you don’t have to have the answers right away. First things first, you need to get out of bed. And you need to eat.

Baby steps.

You ease yourself out of John’s bed and scour the sheets for your underwear. Once you find them, you make your way back to your new room to get a fresh set of clothes. You had retrieved your stuff from storage and had shoved it into a corner of your new room so it takes you some time to find your clothes. You pull on a pair of jeans and tank top, before heading to the bathroom to freshen up.

It’s the first time in days you’ve seen your reflection and it makes you freeze. Your eyes look hollow and there are dark circles around them. Your cheeks look sunken in and overall you look like you could use a few more days of rest. You don’t look like how you were there. A wave of anger washes over you and before you realize what you’re doing, you punch your reflection, shattering the mirror.

The glass cuts your knuckles as you draw your hand away. You expect the cuts to heal like the cut on your palm did, but they don’t. Wonder why. Whatever, you’ll figure it out later. For now you run your hand under some cold water to wash it out and finish getting ready.

When you enter the kitchen, John is busy at the stove. His cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth as he stirs the scrambled eggs with a spatula, humming a song to himself. The sound of ham sizzling in another frying pan, followed by the smell is enough to make your mouth water. You are hungrier than you realized. You walk over to the table, dropping down in the chair closest to you. “Gonna need to replace the mirror in the bathroom,” you say.

“Is that what this was about then?” John asks, waving his right hand at you.

“You felt that?” you ask.

John nods, putting the spatula down and taking the cigarette out of his mouth. “That I did,” he says. “We’re going to have to be a bit more careful.”

“So basically if you go out on a job and get the shit kicked out of you, I’m going to feel it,” you realize outloud. “Great. This just keeps getting fucking better and better.”

“I’m sure there are mental exercises we can do to shut the other out,” John says, putting his cigarette out in the sink before turning back to the stove. “We just have to do a bit of research. Once we get that going, then we’ll test our magic. See what we really can do.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him.

“Well, the way I see it,” John says, flipping the ham over so it can cook on the other side. “I was powerful before our connection. You became powerful after our Succubi adventure. Now that we have this connection, our magic is going to be even stronger. It’ll be interesting to see what we’re capable of.”

That makes you uneasy. John’s love of power is no secret. “You make me nervous when you talk like that,” you tell him. “Whatever you’re planning, just know I strongly disapprove.”

John just smirks and slides the scrambled eggs onto two plates. While he finishes making breakfast, you get the both of you some orange juice and silverware. It’s such a mundane and domestic task, it’s actually helpful. Keeps your mind busy on something other than the shit you’re going through. You sit down at the table once more and John puts a plate of food in front of you.

“Eat up, and then I think you need to get some fresh air,” he says, taking a seat at the place you had set for him.

“Fuck yes,” you say, picking up your fork. “Can we just go to a park or something and lay out in the sun?”

“I know the perfect place,” John smirks. “Consider it done.”

You dig into the food in front of you enthusiastically as John does the same. This is familiar. John making you breakfast after waking up together. It had become a sort of tradition when you started seeing each other regularly. You can feel John watching you and you glance over at him. “What?” you ask, mouth full of food.

“Nothing,” John says. “I’m still getting used to you being actually here. Awake.”

You lean back in your chair. “Miss me that much? You flatter me, Constantine.”

“Can you blame me?” John asks, picking up his cup of juice.

“No, I’m pretty hot.”

John opens his mouth to respond, mostly likely with something dirty and inappropriate, when you hear the sound of flapping. Zed’s voice suddenly fills the room. “John Constantine you selfish prick!”

You both turn your heads to look at the angel, who is standing a few feet away. If looks could kill, you’d be dead...again.

“Hello to you too, love,” John says.

Seeing Zed brings back a slew of memories. Not just the ones from Heaven, but the ones from before as well. The ones from inside John’s mind, when she knew he was going to die unless you sacrificed yourself and yet she didn’t say anything. Not only that, she knew you had passed on and she didn’t feel the need to tell John. There’s a chance that if she had told John, you wouldn’t have been ripped from Heaven. Obviously you’ll never know if this is true. But you’re pissed and you don’t really care.

You feel your anger take hold and before you can stop yourself, you throw your fork down and bolt out of your seat.

“Lola? LOLA!” John realizes what you’re going to do and scrambles out of his chair to try to stop you.

Too late.

You sink your fist right into Zed’s jaw. She barely flinches but your fist explodes with pain. “Son of a bitch!” you snap, jerking away in pain as John also swears and shakes out his own hand.

“You proud of yourself?” Zed asks angrily.

“I told you when we were in John’s mind that when I woke up I was going to slap you right in the mouth,” you remind her.

“And now you just punched an angel,” Zed says. “Congratulations.”

“Better you than me,” John says.

“Yeah, well you fucking deserved it,” you say, flexing your fingers experimentally. Your hand doesn’t seem to be broken, though your cuts have reopened and are bleeding again. John comes over to examine your hand. As soon as he touches you, the skin starts to knit itself together. Well that explains that. “Why didn’t you tell him where I was? Did you also neglect to tell him that you let me go into his mind, knowing he wasn’t going to make it?”

“Oh just like a bloody angel,” John says angrily, glaring at Zed. “You knew Lola was going to have to sacrifice herself to save me and yet you said absolutely nothing. Typical.”

“I knew what needed to be done,” Zed says. “And that’s not even close to what I’m here for.” She rounds on John. “I cannot believe you stole her soul from Heaven and brought her back to life!”

“She was never dead,” John says smugly. “Preserved her body. Buried a fake at the funeral. Right under your nose.”

“John, how many times do we have to tell you,” Zed says in frustration. “The rules are in place for a reason! You cannot bend them to suit your needs!”

“Well, I did,” John says. “Lola is alive, no thanks to you. I did what I had to do. However, if you would have shared the tiny fact that she was in fucking Heaven, I would have taken the preservation spell off and let her die peacefully.”

“See you say that now, but we both know that’s not true, John,” Zed says. “If I had told you she was in Heaven, you wouldn’t have believed me.”

You really are in no mood to go over all this again. “God, just shut up!” you snap at the both of them. “Alright, it’s done. We’re not going to stand here and keep arguing about it. Not when John and I are already beyond pissed as it is. Though, I blame you almost entirely right now, Zed.”

But Zed is looking between you and John with narrowed eyes. She must have noticed him heal your hand. She gestures to the both of you. “What is this? What am I feeling here?” she asks.

You don’t even want to remotely get into that. So you just throw your hands up in defense and back away. Let John explain. You turn back to the table and sit down once more. You’re too hungry for this shit right now.

“Part of the ritual,” John says, taking the hint. “Don’t worry about it. Lola is fine. I’m fine. Everyone is just fine!” He also returns to his seat. “Now, if you don’t mind, we were having a lovely breakfast before you interrupted.”

He no sooner picks up his fork then the sound of the front door opening and closing echoes from upstairs. “John? You home?” Chas’s booming voices calls out.

“Bloody fantastic,” he mutters, putting his fork back down. He runs his hands over his face and glances at you. You offer him a shrug and take a bite of your eggs. Zed is still standing off to the side, arms crossed angrily. You ignore both of them and busy yourself with your food. John can keep explaining. You didn’t do anything wrong. All you did was wake up from a coma. Which is why you’re barely paying attention when Chas enters the room.

“What’s going on?” he says as soon as he sees Zed.

You can feel his eyes come to rest on you and you chance a look up. He looks surprised, but he doesn’t look angry. In fact he puts his bag down and crosses the room towards you. Before you know what’s happening, Chas is leaning down to envelop you in a tight hug.

“Whoa, hey now,” you say, dropping your fork as he knocks you over a little. “Hello to you too, Chas.” You give him as much a hug back as you can manage.

“It’s good to see you, Lola,” Chas says. He draws away and gives your head a small pat. “You look like you could use sleep though. Food looks good. There more in the pan?”

John smirks, clearly relieved at Chas’s nonchalant attitude. He nods, gesturing towards the stove with his thumb. “Help yourself.”

Zed looks the opposite of pleased. “Are you kidding me right now?” she asks. “Chas, how can you be okay with this?”

Chas shrugs. “Come on, Zed,” he says, fixing himself a plate of food. “It’s John. I knew he wasn’t going to just let this go. He doesn’t really do that.”

“How long have you known what I was up to?” John asks.

“Couple of weeks,” Chas says, getting himself a cup of juice before carrying it and his plate over to the table. He sits in the seat across next to you and across from John. “You blabbed about it one night when you were wasted and I was carrying you to bed.”

You’re taking a sip of your juice when he says this and can’t help but snort into your cup. “Way to go, Constantine,” you say.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” John asks.

Chas shrugs. “Figured you’d tell me what was going on when you needed my help,” he says. “Or when you royally screwed up.”

“Yeah, dragging her back from Heaven would constitute screwing up,” Zed says.

That changes the atmosphere considerably. You weren’t going to tell Chas about Heaven. Actually you weren’t going to talk to anyone but John about it. Chas looks at you with concern but you’re too busy glaring at Zed. “Flap away, little angel,” you say in a low tone. “Before I make you.”

“Fine, I’ll leave. But just know, whatever consequences this has, I hope no one else has to suffer because of it,” Zed says, then she’s gone in the blink of an eye.

“Lola,” Chas begins, but you don’t want to hear the questions. Already you can see the pity in his eyes and you will not stand for it.

“So, about this you carrying John to bed thing,” you say, changing the subject. “Like, was it just to put him to bed or did you join him? I need to know for...reasons.”

That gets a laugh out of John and even Chas cracks a smile and chuckles. “Chas couldn’t handle me,” John says smugly, picking up his fork and returning to his breakfast.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, John,” Chas jokes back. “I’ve never actually tried to get into your pants.”

“Ohhhh?” you say, scooting your chair closer to Chas, as John shoots him a glare. “Gooo on.”

Chas leans over towards you as if he’s telling you a big secret. Which it probably is now that you think about it. “Well, you see one night, many years ago, John was particularly hammered,” he begins.

“Yeah, yeah, I hit on Chas and he shot me down, end of story,” John interrupts.

“You kissed me,” Chas says.

You’re positively excited at this bit of gossip, for many reasons. Mainly because you always love stories that embarrass John. And he clearly is. The tips of his ears are red and you can feel his shame and embarrassment coming off him in waves. “You know,” he says, shooting both you and Chas dark looks as he gestures at you with his fork. “I never thought about this, but you two together in the same room may actually be dangerous for my health.”

“Too much hotness for you to handle?” you ask as Chas digs into his food. He laughs at your statement, which makes you grin.

“Don’t even put that thought into my head,” John says. “Finish your breakfast. We need to get you out of this house.”

“Here here,” Chas says.

‘We’ll talk later’ you mouth to Chas who smirks back. Just having that third person in the room is already helping you tremendously. You can’t feel Chas’s emotions, but he’s clearly not angry at John or you. Not only that, you and John are forced to take control of your emotions. It helps take the edge off. John seems to think the same thing because he’s smiling brighter now as the three of you finish your breakfast.

Once you’re done eating, the three of you head outside. It’s hotter than you thought it would be. But you love it. As soon as you step into the sun, you close your eyes and let the warmth wash over you. There’s a small clearing a little ways away from the house next to an equally small pond and Chas spreads out the blanket he brought so you all can sit on it. John’s smoking a cigarette again, sunglasses on as he sits on the ground and leans against a nearby tree. You lay on your back on the blanket, looking up at the sky. It’s a clear day and there is a gentle breeze.

It feels amazing. After being cooped up in that house you finally feel like you can breathe properly.

“So, what’s the catch,” Chas says after you’ve been silent for awhile. “And will I get caught in the crossfire.”

“You’re safe, mate,” John says. “Though we may get on your nerves eventually.”

“That’s inevitable,” Chas says, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He leans back to rest on his elbows.

“John and I are connected,” you say without opening your eyes. “We feel everything the other feels and basically we’re stuck together for the rest of our lives.”

“So, you’re married?” Chas asks with a smile.

You and John laugh. “Not quite,” John says, extinguishing his cigarette in the grass. “Spiritually, emotionally, and magically connected. It was the price I had to pay to keep her tethered to this world.”

“Not a bad price, considering,” Chas says.

“Yeah, I’m just a bundle of joy to have around constantly,” you say sarcastically.

John moves away from the tree to crawl towards you. “I think so,” he says, collapsing onto the blanket. He settles onto his back and rests his head on your stomach. He crosses his arms as he shifts to get comfortable. You can feel his drowsiness and it’s hard not to give into the feeling yourself. You push it away as best you can and try to focus on the sun instead.

“What Zed said,” Chas says after a moment. “Is it true?”

And there it is. The Heaven question. You turn your head to look at him as you open your eyes. “Yeah,” you say nodding. “Yeah, it’s true.”

“What was it like?” Chas asks.

John’s dozed off by now, so you don’t mind answering Chas’s question, even though it hurts to remember. You can’t blame him for being curious. You would be if you were in his position. He looks so hopeful, you can’t help but smile a little. “Peaceful,” you say. “Warm. Safe. Time doesn’t really move the same way. It all kind of just flows together. It was amazing.”

“Sounds nice,” Chas says with a smile.

“It was nice,” you say. “Never really made plans. Just waited to see what the day would bring. Naps in the afternoon. Dinner on the front porch in the evenings. We used to pick blueberries every morning.”

“We?”

You picture your daughter again and you feel your chest tighten. “My daughter,” you say before you can stop yourself.

“I didn’t know…” Chas begins. “I mean--”

His tone strikes you as odd, until you think over the situation. “No, no, I’ve never had a daughter,” you tell him, realizing what he’s insinuating. “But if this world wasn’t so shitty it would be pretty great to have one.”

Chas’s eyes are filled with sympathy and understanding. “You know that the world is shitty going in,” he says. “I don’t think any soon-to-be parent thinks otherwise. You have a child to bring some good into the world and you raise them to help make this world a better place. At least that’s how I see it.”

You had never thought of it that way. “Yeah, I guess I can see that,” you say.

Chas nods towards John and raises an eyebrow. You understand the question. Was the child his in your Heaven? You nod. Chas’s eyebrows raise to high they're in danger of disappearing into his hairline.

“We’re not procreating, mate,” John mumbles. Guess he wasn’t as asleep as you thought.

Chas chuckles. “I think the universe just breathed a collective sigh of relief on that,” he says jokingly. “But in all honesty, having a daughter changes a man. When Geraldine was born, I knew I would do everything in my power to protect her.”

“Yeah, well, the only way we can protect her right now is not to bring her into this world,” you say. “Enough stuff happens to me and John as it is. Besides, I am not even remotely ready for a child and we’re not going to talk about this anymore…”

You’re getting worked up. It’s hard enough to think about your daughter without crying, but to hear Chas’s voice soften when talking about his own, it’s not making things any easier. You suddenly don’t feel like being around people anymore.

John’s head is still on your stomach and he turns to look at you over his sunglasses. “You alright, love?” he asks.

“No,” you say, pushing on him so he can move. You sit up. “I need to be alone.”

Back inside is safe. Back down to the cold and dark, where you know there’s alcohol and no one expects anything from you. No one wants to hear about what you’ve been through. No one wants to try to have you talk it out. Chas’s intentions are noble and you know he’s just trying to offer you someone to talk to who isn't John. But you don’t want to talk. You need to be alone in your room. That’s where you need to be right now.

“Lola,” John says, taking your hand as you try to stand. You pause and glance back at him. “We’ll get through this. We can help you. I promise--”

“John,” you cut him off. “Do us both a favor and stop making me promises.”

You pull your hand out of his grasp and get to your feet. You can feel their eyes on you as you walk back to the Mill House and you can feel John’s guilt wash over you in waves. It makes your stomach churn and you want to vomit. You wrap your arms around yourself and go back inside, only stopping to grab the whiskey from the living room before locking yourself in your room.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr at ladyfogg.tumblr.com for series updates and teasers.


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